


i'm gonna love and give it a name

by ThunderstormsandMemories



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormsandMemories/pseuds/ThunderstormsandMemories
Summary: Sometimes you just gotta write the post TAAO Annual reunion/Bee's return from the dead fic you wanna see in the worldor, Bumblebee is alive and trying to figure out his feelings, Starscream is skeptical and trying /not/ to figure out his feelings, Wheeljack and Windblade are confused and trying to help, and maybe the answer is emotionally fraught hand-holding





	i'm gonna love and give it a name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zandalorian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zandalorian/gifts).



> I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that this will become canon divergent rather than potentially canon compliant by the time the new optimus prime comes out tomorrow hence the tagging but I am Invested enough in this to finish+post it anyway so here you go
> 
> shout out to zandalorian for 1) getting me into this fandom and 2) the Main Point of this fic

Having a body again was, to put it mildly, a strange experience. Dying had also been a strange experience, as had projecting his consciousness from whatever strange pocket dimension he’d been trapped in, but Bumblebee had gotten used to that. But now his vision was blurry and his body felt so heavy and sitting up took effort, more than just a passing thought, which must’ve been how it had been before he’d died, but somehow the past few months of death had been enough to make him forget what millions of years of life had been like.

“How do you feel?” That was Wheeljack, and hearing his voice made Bee almost start to doubt whether he’d really come back, if it weren’t for how stiff his limbs felt, and for the hand, real and solid, resting gently on his own. Wheeljack had been dead too, if he was remembering correctly. But in four million years of war, he’d seen so many people, both friends and enemies, seem to die only to return to fight again a year or so later, so maybe that wasn’t the best way to judge.

Bee shrugged, slowly and painfully. “I’ve been better,” he said. “But I’ve also been much, much worse.”

“That’s good, under the circumstances,” Wheeljack said, and then, withdrawing his hand and leaning back, “Sorry, I should give you some space. Figure you’re overwhelmed enough as it is.”

“You’re good,” said Bee, reaching for his hand again, feeling like he needed something to keep him from fading away. “I think I need to be reminded that I’m here.”

Wheeljack nodded, his fingers curling around Bee’s once more, the weight tethering him to reality, and then said, carefully, “If you say so. There’s been… well, a lot happening since what happened to you. The invasion was stopped, obviously, but that was before I woke up again, and I thought  _ I  _ had a lot to catch up on.  You’ve gotta be so lost. Alright. So, Starscream took over, partly because there was no one else and I think partly because everyone was so tired and he said a lot of things that seemed to make a lot of sense, and then Windblade- did you ever get to meet her?”

“I know,” Bee said, cutting off Wheeljack before he could get too deep into his explanation. “I saw it.”

“What do you mean?” Wheeljack said, with equal parts concern and scientific curiosity.

“I don’t know,” Bee said, trying to find the words to explain what it had been like, to be alone in nothingness, and then to find himself home but invisible and powerless and feeling even more alone. To watch the future of his world being determined without even having a chance to fix the mistakes he’d made, and then to discover that the one person who could see him was the last person he would have wanted or expected, only to grow to care about him and start to be glad it was Starscream he had been able to speak to, and not anyone else, that maybe there really was something in that moment that they needed to find in each other. After that, realizing he was in love had felt like the least surprising thing of all.

Wheeljack was still watching him curiously, and he cleared his throat and tried to find something to say. “I don’t know why,” he said, “but I was here. I could see and hear and move around and it felt almost like it was real, except I couldn’t touch anything and almost no one could see me.”

“Oh,” Wheeljack said, squeezing his hand comfortingly, and Bee could practically see him filing the information away to theorize about later. He also saw a flicker of surprise at ‘almost no one,’ but Wheeljack didn’t comment on it, so Bumblebee didn’t clarify. “So you know about Windblade, then? She’ll probably want to talk to you, once she gets out of her meeting. I think you’ll like her.”

Bee, thinking about everything he’d seen her do, her determination and optimism and insistence on believing in people, smiled and said, “I do.” And then, “She’s what everyone expected me to be. Or maybe no one really expected me to be anything more than Prowl’s figurehead. But she’s doing everything I wish I could have done, if I’d been able to see past what Optimus Prime wanted and what Prowl wanted and how we were all still fighting the same war we’ve been fighting for four million years.”

“Yeah,” Wheeljack said, and then, carefully, like he was trying to figure out the kindest way to say something rude, said, “You’re a great friend, Bee, but you were never really suited for command. And Prowl has always been good at using people. At least he’s not our problem anymore. And if Windblade sticks around for a while, I might actually get back to my research instead of getting dragged into everyone’s scheming.” He sighed. “I gotta say, though, Starscream did have a few good ideas. I’m not sure how much you saw of him, but-”

“I saw,” Bee said. “I- He was the only one who could see me.”

Wheeljack nodded, looking surprisingly unsurprised. “I wondered about that. He kept talking to you, and yeah, maybe it could’ve been stress or guilt or something, like most people thought, but honestly if he was gonna be haunted for real, you would’ve had to get in line. And besides, of course if anyone could talk  _ Starscream _ into developing a conscience, it would be you.”

\---

It was, Starscream thought, probably not a good sign when even your own hallucinations didn’t want to listen to you anymore. Also, it made prison incredibly boring, when the only person he could talk to was himself, and not even some part of his subconscious that thought the best form it could take was, for some reason, a dead Autobot who had never been anything more than an obstacle in life.

But when he was talking to him, it was getting harder and harder to remember that he was dead and not really there and just a figment of Starscream’s imagination. He didn’t act like Starscream would expect his own subconscious to act. He was too honest and open and believed in him entirely too much. Too much earnest idealism, not enough cutting wit. And sure, maybe at first he had been a nuisance, a distraction, but even then he hadn’t had that smug Autobot moralism that he hated so much about Optimus and Prowl and even Windblade when she’d first shown up. Even then, he’d had all of the good qualities that Bee must’ve always had, probably, though he’d never actually noticed when he was alive: the optimism, the kindness, the insistence that even  _ he _ was someone worth believing in. Well, look where that got him, where that got both of them.

And as time went on, he stopped being a nuisance and started being a different type of distraction, the kind that he looked forward to instead of the kind he tried to shut out. If it was vain to imagine that a projection of his own subconscious was trying to befriend him while masquerading as a ghost, how much more vain was it to fall for him anyway? Vain or pathetic, he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t like they didn’t amount to the same thing anyway.

He hadn’t shown up in days, though, and Starscream was starting to resign himself to the idea that maybe he wouldn’t, that maybe this was it, and he surprised himself by how lost that made him feel. Talking to Bumblebee had somehow, ironically enough, made him feel grounded, and every time he smiled at him, that soft, crooked smile of his, he had the foolish desire to do whatever it took to see that smile again.

\---

Windblade was surprised when one of Bumblebee’s first requests after returning to life was to see Starscream. It had been her understanding that they had been rivals for control of Cybertron before she had arrived, leaders of what was left of their respective opposing factions, and nothing she had seen or heard since then had convinced her that this had changed before Bumblebee had been killed. There was something a little strange about Starscream apparently talking to what he thought was Bumblebee’s ghost, but she had chalked it up to stress and guilt. And she had seen him there, in Starscream’s mind, but she’d assumed that his presence was more about his involvement in Starscream gaining control of Cybertron rather than anything about Bumblebee himself. Maybe she should’ve given it more thought, paid more attention to the fact that his was the first image that had appeared, but at that point he had been dead anyway, and she’d had more immediate concerns.

But Bumblebee had insisted, so here she was, escorting him to Starscream’s cell. She didn’t have to come herself, but she was curious, and also she didn’t necessarily trust a strange Autobot to be alone with someone as universally disliked as Starscream for too long. It was a suspicious, cynical thought, one which, not too long ago, she would never have considered, and she wasn’t sure if it was Chromia’s influence, her caution finally rubbing off on her, or Starscream’s. Definitely Chromia’s; Starscream would have laughed in her face if she’d shown him any sign of caring about his safety.

He nodded to her when she entered, his eyes flicking briefly toward Bumblebee before focusing back on her. “Windblade.”

“Starscream.” She watched for another moment, waiting for him to acknowledge Bumblebee, but he seemed to be waiting for her to say more.

“Well?” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Need advice on ruling a planet? Chromia came back and you can’t figure out how to tell her how you feel?” He smirked, showing his teeth. “I can help you with one of those, at least.”

With every word she grew more and more impatient, and finally she said, “Enough, Starscream. What is your problem?”

“Where do you want me to start?” he said, in the tone he used when he was about to pick a fight.

“I know you were enemies, but this is just ridiculous. Aren’t you going to say something to him?”

“Who?” Starscream said cautiously, staring at her like he was determinedly pretending Bumblebee wasn’t there.

“Bumblebee,” she said. “He came back from the dead and immediately asked to see you, and now you won’t even look at him. That seems callous, even for you.” She put her hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder, and Starscream flinched, looking genuinely surprised, and stared at Bumblebee like he was seeing a ghost.

“You can see him, too?”

“Wha-”

“I’m here,” Bumblebee said, stepping forward and shrugging off her hand. “I mean, I was always kind of here, but now I’m really here.”

Windblade, incredibly confused, looked back and forth between Bumblebee and Starscream as if one of them was going to explain what was happening. Unfortunately, Bumblebee didn’t seem to have eyes for anyone except Starscream, and Starscream didn’t look like he knew what was going on any better than she did, except that he was starting to get angry about it.

“You died,” he said, cold and harsh and unnecessarily rude.

“Sort of,” Bumblebee agreed, “but not completely. I don’t really understand it- Wheeljack has some theories, you know how he is- but I’m really here now.”

Starscream shook his head, like he was trying to shake away what he was hearing. “I don’t believe you.”

Windblade, though, was starting to put the pieces together, was thinking about Bumblebee asking to see Starscream, and about overhearing Starscream arguing with himself, or so she thought, and the emotionally charged way they were looking at each other now.

“You were real?” she said. “This whole time, when we all thought it was- the stress, or the trauma, or something- he was actually talking to  _ you _ ?”

“Yeah,” said Bumblebee, and before she could feel too terrible he said, “Don’t worry too much. He didn’t think I was real either.”

“I still don’t,” Starscream said, finally standing up, his voice tight, his fists clenched like he was preparing for a fight. “You can say whatever you want, you can’t make me believe you.”

“I’m here,” Bumblebee said again, softly, pleading. “This isn’t a trick, being played by Windblade or by me or by your own mind. It never was.”

“I think I liked you better when you didn’t pretend to be real.”

“I’m not pretending,” Bumblebee said. “I’ve never lied to you, and I’m not starting now.” And then, desperately, “I meant every word I ever said to you, every time I told you that I believed in you, and I was right-”

“Shut up,” Starscream said, as if there was any point acting like he didn’t have vulnerabilities or redeeming qualities to be a better person in front someone who had, apparently, been his only confidant for the past year and someone else who had literally been inside his mind. Then again, even having been inside his head, she’d never fully understood why he still tried to insist that nothing could be different.

“Please,” said Bumblebee, reaching a hand into the cell, palm outstretched. “Will you believe me now?”

Wordlessly, Starscream reached out and took his hand, hesitantly at first, jolting as if he hadn’t expected to actually touch anything, and then holding on to it like a lifeline. His face was turned away from her, but she could see his body trembling and had a moment of worry until she realized that he was crying. And for everything she’d seen of him, even inside his mind, even at his most vulnerable, she’d never seen him cry. And now that she had, she felt another stab of futile anger towards Vigilem and the surprised way he’d said,  _ so you do have a spark _ as if that could possibly be in question. And thinking of that only reminded of her of how he’d said it while wearing Megatron’s face, and she felt an even more futile stab of anger towards Megatron, and while she knew that the universe’s list of grievances with him must be impossibly long, surely there was a place on that list for whatever had happened to cause the look on Starscream’s face when Vigilem took his shape.

Bumblebee was crying too, although that surprised her far less, given everything else she knew about him, and he was clutching Starscream’s hand at least as tightly as Starscream was holding on to him. Windblade, with the feeling that she was accidentally intruding on something incredibly intimate, started to leave, and the last thing she saw before turning away was Bumblebee stepping closer to pull him into a hug, one hand reaching up to touch his face, Starscream’s head bowed so that his forehead rested on Bumblebee’s, tension draining from his shoulders, his expression so full of relief and such fierce fondness that she could only call it love.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't remember if robots crying is canon but listen. people seem very insistent that the robots fuck so you can deal with me letting the robots cry
> 
> title is from 'make me so' by yellowcard


End file.
